


Young Blood

by lisard



Category: Watchmen (2009)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Humor, Canon-Typical Violence, Child Neglect, Dan knows nothing about kids, Father-Daughter Relationship, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Inspired by Novel, Other, Riley has Gen Z energy, Rorschach may live or die idk yet, Rorschach-typical Bigotry, The plot is kinda wack
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:35:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24547015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lisard/pseuds/lisard
Summary: [ Watchmen © DC Universe ] The Watchmen have been outlawed and shunned, but this shift in norm doesn't stop Rorschach from doing what he does best. During his work, he crosses paths with a teenager, Riley, who has fled her foster home. But she isn't just a runaway - her parents were murdered, and her own life may be in danger. Rorschach soon realizes that he can't walk away. The murder of Riley's parents may be connected with the murder of The Comedian. Rorschach supposes he could stick around to solve both cases.
Kudos: 7





	1. Chapter 1

"Will you come back to get us, too, Riley?"

A little boy stood in the threshold of a door, hands meekly gripping the sides of his pajama pants. Riley paused in the middle of cramming what little clothes she had into her backpack, and turned toward the boy. She frowned.

"I can't. I don't know how to look after you," she told him, moving away from the bed and to the boy's side. The kid frowned back at her.

"I don't wanna stay. I wanna go with you," he whimpered, lower lip poking forward.

"I have pictures of what they've been doing to you. I'll take them to the station and you'll be in a better home soon, okay?" she promised him, reaching over and setting her hand on his head. The kid stared up at the older girl, eyes beginning to glisten. He was pulled into a tight hug, which he instantly returned. "You'll be out real soon," Riley murmured. She couldn't stay much longer. She wouldn't get a better time to run away, so she had to do it now.

The girl tiptoed down the stairs and through the living room where her poor excuses of guardians laid unconscious. She made a hateful grimace, and slowly unlocked the front door. As her foot passed the threshold, the air felt much lighter. Riley couldn't help but take in a deep breath.

It was cold and it had rained recently. The streets and roads were wet, and Riley's breath formed vapor every time she exhaled. It was early October, and it got quite chilly in the city around that time. The street the foster home was on wasn't as silent as it usually was. Screams and shouts were barely audible further down the road toward the heart of the city. Riots were still going on.

Much like a turtle, Riley tucked her head further into the collar of her jacket. Her cheeks burned against the autumn wind. The police station was several blocks down. She reached it in about fifteen minutes. Only one officer was inside, sitting at the front desk reading a newspaper. He was a somewhat short and stout man with a bushy mustache, and he didn't seem to take notice of the girl that had just entered the station. Riley quietly stepped up to the desk, lightly crumpling with the envelope in her hands. The out of place sound drew the man's focus away from his current article and to the kid standing at his desk. "Oh, hey there. Can I help you? Are you lost?" he asked, leaning forward in his chair.

Riley did not speak. She only reached up and passed him the envelope. "Can you take a look at these?" she requested, drawing her hand back into her jacket pocket once the envelope was taken from her. The room fell quiet once again as the officer grabbed a letter opener and tore the sealed sleeve. He stuck his fingers into the opening and plucked out a small stack of about six or seven Polaroid photos. The man's thick brow furrowed, unsure what to think at first. That fact changed quickly as he filed through the contents of the pictures.

Hallways of a home with stained carpet and littered with trash. Cracked walls and moldy ceilings of children's rooms. A kitchen also trashed and spotted with mold. Riley's foster parents, sprawled out on the living room floor. Hypodermic needles and pills. The officer's face paled. "Is this your home?" he asked, turning to her with wide eyes. Riley gave him a stiff nod.

"For me and about five other kids," she commented, rocking in place, "We've also been yanked around and burned with cigarettes." Riley tugged down the high collar of her jacket and turned her head to the right. Four small, circular scabs dotted the side of her neck. The man slowly leaned back in his chair, taking a moment to process all the information.

He stayed that way for a few moments, then leaned forward again. "Where is this happening?" he asked, staring intently at Riley.

"5368 Orchard Circle. The house is orange with an overgrown lawn," she explained. A sliver of hope flickered in her eyes. She and her friend would finally get justice. The officer nodded and reached for the CB radio on his desk. He clutched the mic and held it up to his lips.

"This is Officer Twener, at the station. We've got a 10-93 at Orchard Circle. Are any officers available?" he spoke into the device. He and Riley stood there, waiting. Several seconds ticked by. "This is Twener. Are any officers available?"

"Negative, sir. All of us are downtown maintaining the riot," an older man spoke from the other end. A frown pulled at Twener's face.

"You're telling me you can't spare even a single man?" he quizzed, brow knitting together. It was another few seconds before there was a response.

"Sorry, sir. We'll send someone down as soon as we can." The line went silent. Riley stood there, her heart dropping into her gut. She found it a bit harder to breathe. Twener bowed his head with a sigh, placing the speaker back on its holster. Riley gripped the edge of the desk, head lowered to hide her chin in the collar of her jacket. Twener didn't like seeing someone so young discouraged.

"I'm sorry. But we _will_ send someone down there soon, okay?" he repeated, drawing Riley's gaze up from the desk back to him. His expression was unreadable, which may have been a bad thing. She muttered a bitter "sure" before turning and heading out the double glass doors. It was as cold as it was before she first walked into the station if not just a tad colder. The kid internally cursed her jacket for not having a hood when a breeze ruffled her hair. 

Riley stood there for a while, pondering. Twener watched her through the doors, but there was nothing he could say or do. He silently wished her the best when she finally disappeared down the street.

The kid suddenly had a brainwave, remembering the corner diner her mother's friend worked night shifts for. There was no way for her to tell the time, but she had to trust it wasn't too late to get her help.

Riley frequently stole glances around the street, slowly coming to a halt and kneeling, pulling her backpack off and rummaging through it. The only weapon she had was the multi-tool knife her father gifted her just last year. Puny as it was, it was better than no weapon at all.

Riley returned her bag to her shoulder, knife clutched in her left hand. She went about her way carefully but quickly. All seemed well for several minutes; fate might have been on her side. Until came the distant sound of shattering glass, causing her to stop in her tracks. She looked over her shoulder, glaring down the street and into the nearby alleyway. All was void of life, but this didn't ease Riley's nerves.

The girl nearly sprung out of her skin as a solid force collided with the pavement just several feet away, and a shower of glass followed suit. Riley forced her body away from the scene, losing her footing and falling onto her rear. Her backpack weighed her down, making it a bigger struggle to stand back up. She stared wide-eyed at the body ways in front of her, fighting to catch her breath. Her gaze moved up the building the body fell from. _Too_ high. Impossible for them to still be alive. Riley rolled over onto her hands and knees and crawled until she was back on her feet. She took one more glance at the body before taking off down the alleyway beside her.

Only half an hour out in the world, and already Riley got to witness death in action. No use going back to the station, either. The kid took off through the alley before she found herself on another street, but she didn't stop just yet. She kept going, taking a right turn, then continuing straight. She gave it a couple of minutes before deciding it was safe to slow down again. A soft clap of thunder rumbled off in the distance, drawing Riley's attention. Her lips pulled into a frown and she pushed on.

It was another ten minutes before she, at last, reached her destination. To Riley's knowledge, her mother's friend was still employed. It had been a while since she last saw her, but there was a sliver of hope that she could help. However, that sliver was snatched back into the darkness upon seeing no lights shining through the front windows. Riley hurried over, pressing her hands to the glass and peering through it. Vacant.

" _No..._ " she whispered in defeat. Her hands slid down the window and fell back at her sides. Her nose scrunched up, and she kicked at the wall. "Now what?" she asked herself, stuffing her hands deeper into her pockets. She leaned against the windowsill, taking a moment to go back to the drawing board. A rustling in the dead-end alley beside the diner grabbed Riley's attention. She straightened up, and a jolt of shock rattled her body when a woman cried out. Riley was coaxed to the corner of the wall, and she poked her head around it.

There was a man, and he had the frightened woman pressed against a dumpster with a gun to her chin. The woman turned away from her assailant as he began whispering vulgarities into her hair. At that moment, she and Riley made eye contact. It was like looking into a flashlight: intense and jarring. The woman's eyes welled up with tears, pleading for this unknown child to _do something_.

Riley's hand tightly grasped the Swiss knife in her pocket. The blade was only two and a half inches; what could it possibly do? Nevertheless, it wasn't enough to keep her from trying. She shrugged off her bag and fumbled with the knife to unsheathe the blade. With a short draw of breath, she went sprinting into the alley toward the assailant. He reacted too late, letting out a sharp howl as the little knife was thrust into his side. Riley pressed her feet flat to the ground, driving the blade to the hilt.

A rough hand grabbed hold of the hair at the crown of her head, and she was yanked back. "You little rat!" the man cursed, shoving Riley back and wrenching her knife out of his side. His would-be-victim took this opportunity to duck and run, fleeing into the street and disappearing into the night. The unsavory watched his prey get away, breathing laboriously. He snapped his gaze toward Riley, who was back on her feet. She was instantly plucked off of them by the collar of her jacket. Riley kicked her legs, wriggling around in a fruitless attempt to free herself. "Spunky little thing, aren't you?" the man grumbled, brandishing his gun once again, but he had no real intention of killing a child. Instead, he bashed the butt of his pistol in the side of her head.

Riley's teeth clacked, black and white flurries swimming around in her vision. Her body suddenly weighed a ton as she was thrown to the ground again. "You're somebody else's problem now," the unsavory murmured, returning his pistol to its holster. He was ready to take off, but a new figure dropped into the scene from above. The man paused, narrowing his eyes to see through the darkness. There was little time for introductions as the stranger stalked right up to the man and socked him in the gut. A loud, breathless _hurk_ came from him, and he doubled over his own aggressor's arm. He toppled over onto his side, clutching his stomach.

"Preying on women and children alike without shame. I know exactly what you are." Their voice was profoundly guttural like that of a sick man. It seemed gruff enough to strike fear into the heart of the unsavory. He rolled onto his back and scooted away from the stranger.

"Y-You do?" he gawked, too frightened to reach for his weapon. He was snatched up by the collar of his shirt, a well-intended gesture of mockery. His face was brought close, revealing a mask decorated with continually shifting ink.

"You're a wretched thug who's about to swallow every tooth in his decrepit mouth," he spat, bringing back his fist and began to thoroughly tenderize his face.

Just a few feet away, Riley laid there, disoriented. She shifted her head down as if to look at her feet, watching through half-lidded eyes. She dragged her arms across the pavement and pressed her hands flat against it. Her arms began to wobble when she applied pressure. She lifted her upper body off the ground and turned toward the spectacle, watching the mugger's face become bloodied and bruised with every punch. Riley felt nothing for him. 

It was only when he became borderline unrecognizable that he was released, his body collapsing to the ground. The masked man stood over him for a moment before stepping out from over his body. Riley shimmied across the alleyway, aiming to retrieve her Swiss knife that the attempted mugger threw against the wall just minutes ago. The man watched her inch across the filthy concrete toward her weapon, then walked over and kneeling by the knife to pick it up. 

Riley's upper body shot more upright. "No!" she hissed, scrambling faster toward him, outstretching a hand to grab the knife. The man simply held it out closer to her. Riley swiped it from him and pressed it to her chest. Her body was still teetering, nonetheless, she supported herself enough to sit upright. She turned her body away from the man, hunching protectively over her possession.

"Can you stand up, kid?" he asked, voice ever the same. Riley didn't answer, but it did make her wonder. She wiped the blade off on her jeans before returning it to her pocket. Pressing her hands against the ground again, she rolled forward, stretching her legs out to support her weight. Her body began to sway again, and she was still on all fours. A groan rumbled in her throat as she pushed her arms out.

Without a word, a firm hand suddenly gripped her bicep and yanked her to her feet. Riley kicked her legs, spacing them out once all her weight was released. She was still struggling to balance, so the man didn't remove his hand just yet. The girl stared up at him, then pulled her arm away, which he gladly allowed. There was a long silence between the two, Riley still staring at the ground. "... Thanks."

"You gonna be alright?" he asked, slipping his hands into his coat pockets. He sounded burdened to ask. An obligatory nuisance. It could have just been his gravelly voice. Riley tucked her head between her shoulders for an instant before letting them drop. "Why are you out on the streets? Do you know how late it is?" Now he was scolding her. Riley furrowed her brow and shot him a look. "You could've died—"

" _I know,_ " she groaned, hobbling toward the corner of the alley to retrieve her bag. The man stood in place and simply watched. There was no telling how he was feeling; even the shifting ink in his mask didn't supply any clues. Riley knelt over and picked up her bag, thus returning it to her shoulders. "But I lived. Isn't that what matters?" she quizzed, looking over her shoulder back at her rescuer. He gave no answer. Instead, he fished out a small leather-bound journal from his pocket. He peeled it open and flipped to a half blank page, beginning to scribble in it.

"Where do you live?" he asked, not turning away from his journal.

Riley made a face. "It's creepy that you're even asking me that."

"Just answer the question, kid." This man didn't appear to have much patience. Riley sighed and slumped her shoulders. She didn't answer right away, keeping stubbornly silent for a good several seconds.

"I don't live anywhere," she said finally. The man's head bobbed back slightly, like he was suppressing a chuckle.

"So, you ran away. Got it," he deduced, continuing to write. Riley nearly lashed out to deny it, but he was right on par. "Care to explain why?" he asked, stopping his pencil.

"That's none of your business," Riley grumbled, her hands idly fumbling with some lint in her jacket pockets.

"Kid, I'm trying to help. For me to do that, you need to cooperate," he snapped, lowering his journal. Riley lowered her head, eyes never leaving the moving ink of his mask. She made out the vague shape of a gas mask in the inkblots. "Kid." Riley blinked back to reality. She must have stared for a while. The two of them had a stare-down for a moment, then Riley broke it.

"Who even are you?" she asked, furrowing her brows. There was a blink of tension in the man's body before it dispersed.

"Rorschach."

"I meant your _real name_."

"Rorschach. Take it or leave it." He made it clear that Riley wasn't going to get any further on the subject. The kid closed her eyes, promptly rolling them behind her eyelids. "Let's try this again: why did you run away?" he repeated.

"I came from a foster home. A bad one. We were abused and hardly ever fed. I decided I wasn't gonna stay anymore."

"You say "we". There were others?" Rorschach questioned, having resumed writing in his journal. Riley confirmed this.

"I had pictures of the house and all our bruises and stuff to take to the police, but they couldn't send a guy to the house." Riley's voice seemed to weaken a bit near the end of her statement. "Everyone's busy with the stupid riots." Rorschach was quiet, focused on supposedly jotting down everything he was told.

"The pictures. Are they at the station?" he asked. Riley nodded. "Let's get them back." He closed his journal and returned it to his pocket. He wasted no time in leaving the alley and walking through the street. The trip back to the station was filled with more questions about the condition of the foster home. Rorschach was convinced enough to conduct his own investigation, but he still wished to see photographic evidence.

The vigilante waited outside the station while Riley went inside to retrieve the envelope. Twener was nowhere to be seen. Most likely in another room. Riley grabbed the envelope from his desk and hurried back outside. She held it up to Rorschach and he gladly took it. He dumped them out and cycled through them. Mold, cigarette burns, and heroin. A lovely sight, for sure. A faint murmur rumbled in his throat. He'd seen many bad things, and this certainly fell into his top ten. Calmly, he returned the photos to the envelope.

"Can you help?" Riley spoke up. Rorschach looked down at her. She was utterly helpless in this matter. Desperate. She stared up at him, eyes prying to see past his mask. It felt a bit intrusive, even for Rorschach. Without a word, he handed the envelope back to Riley. She visually deflated at that moment, giving a look of betrayal. The ink of Rorschach's mask shifted into another vague shape. Riley interpreted a butterfly's wings aligned as if they were still part of the body, that was otherwise absent.

"You never told me the address," Rorschach stated. Riley's soul returned to her body, and she took in a wavering breath. She almost smiled.

It wasn't long before both of them were on their way. "Do you care if I kill them?" Rorschach suddenly asked, keeping his attention forward. Riley stared up at him. She had to give that some thought.

"Not really, but don't kill them right away. Beat them up," Riley said. There was a hum from Rorschach.

"Pretty dark, aren't you, kid?" he teased, but there wasn't a chuckle.

"I have a name," Riley grumbled.

"That you never told me." He got her there. She puckered her face into a frown, looking off elsewhere before looking forward again.

"Riley."

She could practically hear Rorschach sounding it out in his head. "Nice name."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: "slut-shaming", alcohol abuse, cigarette burns, bludgeoning

When Riley said "orange house", Rorschach expected an orange house. It was instead a peach-like color from how faded the paint had become. On the other hand, the yard was certainly overgrown. Rorschach walked almost soundlessly up the driveway to stand at the front door. His attention turned to Riley as she walked up beside him. "Is there a spare key?" he asked. Riley didn't say a word as she turned toward a nearby withered rose bush.

She knelt and reached into it, muttering a few "ow"s as the thorns pricked at her skin. She was up to the shoulder in leaves before she finally reached the key. "There." Riley got back on both feet and slowly inserted the key into its lock. She held the doorknob with her free hand, not wanting to make too much noise. The foster parents might have woken up.

After what felt like ages, the lock clicked at last. Riley released a short breath before tossing the key back into the bush. Even slower than she unlocked it, she pushed the door open. It was dark inside save for a ray of light illuminating the hall. The kitchen. Riley pushed the door open wider and stepped inside, Rorschach following close behind. His steps were much quieter than hers as he crept across the living room toward the hallway. There was laughter and the sound of a hissing can.

Riley's face twisted in scorn. _Stupid drunks. They don't even know I'm gone, do they?_ Rorschach paused for a moment just beside the door frame leading to the kitchen. Then without shame, stepped into the light. Riley stayed put, listening from the shadows.

The parents were drinking, alright. They were having the time of their lives. All of that was shattered when they realized Rorschach's presence in the doorway. The father staggered out of his chair, flailing his arms around before he finally managed to point a steady finger at him. "Who the hell are you?!" he shouted, using his other hand to support himself on the table. At the other end of the table, the mother sat there and stared with wide eyes.

"How are the kids?" Rorschach asked, promptly dodging the question. "Have you noticed one is missing?" He scanned the mess. "I guess you're a little preoccupied." He couldn't wait much longer; he was itching to get down to business. Rorschach advanced toward the drunk man, sending his fist into his nose. The foster father howled, doubling over and cradling his face. Rorschach grabbed him by the hair and slammed his face into the table, knocking over his and his wife's beer.

The wife suddenly got into her fight reflex, throwing herself at Rorschach. "Get away from my husband, you bastard!" she screeched, flailing her arms at him. Rorschach had no intention of hitting a woman. He grabbed her shoulder and shoved her back. Ultimately, she lost balance and toppled over. Riley was listening to it all unfold, her fists clenching eagerly.

"One of your kids went looking for help. The police did nothing, so she came to me," Rorschach explained to them, looking around the kitchen and spotting an open pack of cigarettes. He leaned over and picked them up with the lighter that was sitting beside it. The woman was crawling over to her husband to help him, and she stared up at Rorschach.

"What? _Who?_ " she asked, pulling her husband against her chest.

That was the best cue Riley was going to get, so she straightened and steered into the kitchen, stopping just past the threshold. "I did," she announced, drawing all the attention to her. Rorschach wasn't going to argue with her about stepping in. She wanted to come and witness his work in the first place. He slipped one hand into his pocket and retrieved the envelope of photos. He held it up for the parents to get a good eyeful.

"What the hell is that supposed to be?" the husband quizzed, narrowing his eyes. Rorschach wordlessly slammed the envelope onto the floor in front of them, implying for them to see for themselves. The woman reached for it first, shaking out the Polaroids. The room went silent as she flipped through them. A brief look of apprehension crossed her face, then it crinkled with rage.

"You little rat!" she shouted, glaring hot daggers in Riley's direction. The kid never flinched; only wiggled her brow. The mother sneered, her body convulsing as if ready to lunge at her. "How could you? You selfish little shit; how much more ungrateful could you get?" she spat, getting red in the face. Riley's brow lowered and knitted together.

The girl stepped further into the kitchen, drawing closer to the drunkards. "Anyone with half a brain knows that being burned with cigarettes and yanked around by the hair is _nothing_ to be grateful for." Her voice became much lower. "I can see my goddamn ribs, Denise!" she shouted.

Meanwhile, Rorschach plucked out a cigarette from the packet and lit it. He watched the smoke rise from it for a moment before passing it off to Riley. She made a face as she took it from him, not quite understanding that he had some kind of poetic justice brewing in his mind. Her mouth fell slightly agape as the realization hit her. Rorschach gave a stiff nod and knelt by the father, grabbing him by the back of his head and lifting him off the floor. He shoved him over toward Riley.

She savored the moment. She drove the lit cigarette with so much force into his forehead that she bent it. Flakes of tobacco fell from the paper roll. The man let out a howl, squinting his eyes shut and fighting against Rorschach's grip. "YOU LITTLE BITCH!" he screeched, reaching up and clawing and Rorschach's hand. Riley dropped the cigarette and took half a step back, lifting a foot and sending it upward into his chin. Drops of blood spurted from his lip as his teeth clamped down on his tongue. He wailed pathetically, letting his mouth hang open, blood pooling behind his bottom teeth and spilling over his lip.

Rorschach released him at that moment, a bit surprised at Riley's sudden action. He had to admit that he was impressed. He saw a gleam of his younger self in her eyes. However, that could equally have been a bad thing. The wife shrieked, reaching out and grabbing a wooden chair from beside the table. She struggled to get to her feet, raising the chair above her head. Rorschach slid in front of Riley, grabbing the chair before it made impact. He pushed back and released the chair, sending the mother back to the floor. The woman groveled around, whimpering like a dog. Any fighting spirit she had left was completely spent.

Rorschach stepped over and grabbed each of their arms, dragging them beside each other. He turned his head toward Riley. "Find something to bind limbs. Rope, bike lock, anything," he instructed. Without a word, Riley turned and exited the kitchen. She didn't know of any rope in the house, but there were belts. The girl trudged up the stairs and took a left toward the parents' bedroom. None of the kids had ever been allowed inside.

It was of no surprise to find more needles and pill bottles strewn about the room. A single condom discarded by the bed. Riley hitched a breath and gulped, turning away. There were a few leather belts stashed away in a lower drawer of the dresser. They were bound to work. She kicked the drawer closed and made her way back to the stairs. A small figure standing in the hallway made her freeze.

"Riley? You came back?" It was Chase, the little boy who wanted to run away with her. His voice was quiet from just having woken up from the commotion. "Are you stealing?" he asked.

"No, I'm not stealing, Chase. I'm..." she paused, having to take a moment to figure out what to tell him, "... I'm making everything okay." Chase seemed convinced of this. He shuffled closer to Riley, coiling his arms around her torso. Riley released to tension in her shoulders, sluggishly raising her arms and draping them over the boy's own. They stayed that way for a bit until Riley pulled her arms away and stepped back. "I have to go again."

"Are we gonna get out soon, like you promised?" Chase asked, reaching out and grabbing Riley's hands. She looked down at him, eyes gentle. She nodded, putting forward a reassuring smile. Joy painted itself across the boy's features. Riley knelt down, and Chase flew into her arms. She let things go still for several moments, but she couldn't stay for much longer. There was a job to be completed.

Riley whispered her final goodbyes before trotting down the stairs. She returned to the kitchen, holding up the handful of belts. "Will this work?" she asked Rorschach. He held out his hand toward her, and she passed them off to him. The foster parents were soon bound together and thrown into the corner of the room. Rorschach turned to the kid, gently slapping a hand on the back of her shoulder.

"Do whatever else you want, but the moment you hear sirens, get out," he said, turning and leaving the kitchen. Riley watched him go before returning her attention to her parents. The father was nearly unconscious and still drooling blood. The mother was curled up, silently weeping. All of this and Riley felt nothing. She picked up the envelope and photos, brushing them off and laying them out across the table. A half-empty can of beer sat a ways from her. Riley stared at it for a second, then scooped it up. 

She turned back toward the foster parents, brazenly dumping the rest of the liquid onto their heads. The mother cowered away, but the father thrashed his head about and fussed. Riley wasn't yet done, however. She dropped the can and pinned her shoulders back, hacking up a mouthful of spit, and spattered it into their faces. At that moment, the events of the evening crashed into all at once, making her stumble back. She leaned toward the counter, outstretching an arm to support herself.

Before Riley knew it, sirens were wailing. She shot upright and wasted no time in bolting out of the kitchen and out the front door. It had started sprinkling again, and thunder clapped in the distance. Flashing lights were zeroing in from the right, so Riley took off to the left. She wanted to sprint, but her aching legs would only carry her at a jog. She only made it two houses before kneeling behind a shrub, peeking out to watch a single car pull into the foster home driveway.

The driver door swung open, and Twener stepped out. A younger officer emerged from the passenger side. They looked at each other, then at the house. It wasn't long before they stepped inside. Riley wished to stay and see what became of the foster couple, and she nearly planned to.

"Where will you go now?" Rorschach suddenly appeared behind her, making her jump. She spun around, making a face. He just stared down at her, and Riley stared right back. There was nothing she could make out of his mask this time. She looked away from the man and down at the ground. More thunder.

"... I don't know," she admitted, voice nearly drowned out by the rain. Rorschach closed his eyes behind his mask, opening them just moments later. He stepped up to Riley, stepping up to her and patting her shoulder, flicking his fingers upward. The kid stared at him, not following. She blinked and jolted, quickly getting back to her feet.

"I have an idea," Rorschach said vaguely, swerving around her and into the street. Riley trailed after him, staying close. The two made it past the foster house without being noticed. Riley had looked back as they got further down the street, joyful to witness the couple being dragged out of the house and stuffed into the back of the car. At last, a smirk pulled at her lips.

Rorschach and Riley walked back into the city. The girl noticed the screaming from the riots had dialed down a bit, perhaps allowing just one man to join Twener. Riley looked up at Rorschach. "Where are we going?" she asked.

"I'm going to leave you with a friend until I find you a new home," he told her, "and don't make that face."

Riley immediately dropped the look, averting her gaze to her shoes. She stiffened her shoulders and looked back up. "My mom has a friend who works at a diner. I can just go to her," she explained.

"By the alley I found you in?" Rorschach guessed. "Then you can find her tomorrow." Riley couldn't argue with that. Most of the walk went by in silence.

They passed a strip bar, a few scantily clad women circling outside like vultures looking for their next meal. Two approached Rorschach, completely ignoring Riley's presence. The kid shrunk a bit, thoughtlessly moving closer to Rorschach. _The guy could have warts or something. Do some women really not care?_

Rorschach never stopped, and the women cursed at him. Riley craned over her shoulder, pulling her bottom eyelid down and poking her tongue out. They called her a brat.

"Those women are the definition of dirty and desperate," Rorschach muttered once they were out of earshot of the bar. He turned his head to look down at Riley, and she looked back at him. "Little girl, if I _ever_ see you on the street offering your body for money, I'll kill you myself." Riley made that face again. Furrowed brows and one corner of her mouth pulled back into a questioning half-smirk. She snickered.

"Then you don't have to worry about that. I'd kill myself before you even found out," Riley quipped, nearly earning a chuckle from the vigilante. He suppressed it again. Riley narrowed her eyes. "I'll get a real laugh out of you one day."

"Good luck," Rorschach said. Riley properly smirked that time.

"Challenge accepted."

Silence returned, and the two reached their destination. Riley followed Rorschach up the small set of stairs, standing beside him as he knocked on the door. It was a short while before the door finally opened. A man just a few inches taller than Rorschach stood on the other side of the threshold. "Rorschach?" His brow raised upon seeing the masked man, and his eyes narrowed when they rested upon Riley. There was a tense silence between the three of them. The man's lips twitched upward. "I, uh, didn't take you for the type—"

"Not mine," Rorschach promptly cut him off, "Let her stay here for the night."

The man went wide-eyed. "Hold on, Rorschach. I didn't sign up to look after a little girl."

"I'm not asking you to adopt her, Daniel. Just until she gets a friend for help," Rorschach said. Daniel went quiet, looking between him and Riley. He wasn't sure what to say. Or think, for that matter. He looked back at Rorschach, dropping his voice.

"Rorschach, she could be violent for all we know. What if she's tried to kill somebod—"

"You don't have to talk about me like I'm not here," Riley spoke up, face puckered with a frown. "I'm not violent. Not until you try swinging on me first."

Rorschach shifted his weight onto another foot. "For _one night_ , Daniel," he pressured. The man was cornered, shifting his weight back and forth. He looked back down at Riley.

"Before you say anything—" Riley blurted, turning to Rorschach. The vigilante stared back down at her, hands moving out of his pockets to prop themselves on his hips.

"I don't need a "thank you"," he told her, head swiveling back to look at Daniel to further pressure him into taking the kid.

"I want you to find the guy that killed my parents."

Rorschach did a double-take, as did Daniel. There were a few beats of intense silence between the three of them. "Aren't you a vigilante? That's what you do, isn't it?" Riley quizzed. The man was stunned stupid, left to simply gawp at her. Riley's gaze hardened a bit, body jerking in a manner to press for an answer. "I'll pay you."

That got Rorschach to speak, but only to quip, "how much?"

The kid wavered. "... Enough." Rorschach suppressed another chuckle, which only annoyed Riley further. " _Please_. I have to know who did it."

"I'll think about it, kid." It was clear that it was the only answer she would get out of him. Begrudgingly, Riley silenced herself. Daniel raked a hand through his hair and sighed.

"Alright, alright. I'll let her stay for the night," he said, stepping back from the door and allowing them inside. Riley stepped over the threshold. Rorschach only stood there, and he turned away and headed down the street. Daniel leaned out the door. "Where are you going?" he asked.

"Gotta start looking for a home in case her friend can't help," Rorschach answered, not turning back. Daniel frowned and returned indoors.

He turned back around to speak to Riley, but she was nowhere to be seen. There were some noises from the kitchen just down the hall. Daniel sped to the door and shoved it open, hoping he wasn't about to walk in on this girl stealing from him. A wave of relief hit him when he saw she was only rummaging through the pantry. In her defense, she looked awfully thin. He watched Riley dump two cans of beans into a cast iron pot, then sidestep to pile sliced turkey onto a sandwich. While the beans heated up on a low flame, she stuffed the sandwich into her face. Daniel said nothing. He needed to go on a grocery run anyways.

It was about time to lay down some ground rules. "You can sleep on the couch. The bathroom is just across the hall over there." He turned around and pointed to the door under the stairs. "I don't care if you stay up later, just try not to make too much noise. And I'd appreciate if you cleaned up in here once you're finished," he said. Riley held a thumbs up. Daniel nodded, half-waving. "Goodnight." And he was gone, trudging up the stairs.

Riley hung around in the kitchen for another half hour, finishing the sandwich and practically inhaling the pot of beans. She set the pot in the sink, filling it halfway with water so nothing stuck. She shuffled out of the kitchen and into the living room, tossing her backpack onto the couch. She collapsed beside it and rubbed her eyes. Catching a whiff of the odor emitting from beneath her clothes, her nose crinkled. She rolled off the couch and dragged herself toward the bathroom out in the hall, bringing her bag with her.

It was a small tub hidden behind a creme curtain. The kid turned the handle and left it on lukewarm. She took her time, grabbing the washrag, wringing it out a few times, and scrubbing her arms. She hoped this wouldn't be the last time in a long time to properly clean herself. Riley stared down into the drain, watching the sudsy water spiral down into it. She eyed the shampoo bottle on the steel rack hanging from the showerhead. Riley was sure Daniel wouldn't mind. She flipped the cap and dumped a handful of it into her hair. The strong, sharp scent made her nose tingle. She rinsed off and cut the water.

Riley dried herself and slipped into a set of baggy clothes. After a few minutes of nearly spiraling into an existential crisis in front of a steamy mirror, she returned to the living room, collapsing onto the couch. She turned onto her back, mind wandering back to Rorschach. A huff. _He_ better _think about it._

Sleep was creeping in, and it was inevitable. Riley furrowed her brow and rubbed her eyes. There was so much more thinking left to do. Her eyelids began to drop and every time they did, she would stretch them back open. The more she fought to stay conscious, the closer she drew to _un_ consciousness. Riley's lungs released a soft puff of air as her body gave in, and her eyelids fluttered shut. Big things were happening tomorrow.


End file.
